


The Rose in the Deeps of His Heart

by DrakkHammer



Category: Britchell - Fandom, Mitchers - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Romance, faith - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 15:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4441919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrakkHammer/pseuds/DrakkHammer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Britchell Contribution Fest  -- see all the contributions <a href="http://britchellcontributionfest.tumblr.com/"><strong>HERE</strong></a> <br/>They haven't been together very long. Neither of them has ever thought of himself as gay and yet here they are sharing bed and board, scarcely able to stand a minute apart. So why would a woman place a photo of herself in their mail addressed only to Mitchell? What is an unsure boyfriend to think?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rose in the Deeps of His Heart

_For my dreams of your image that blossoms_

_a rose in the deeps of my heart._

-       _William Butler Yeats_

 

Anders hadn’t thought anything about it when he picked up the mail in the morning. Mitchell had already left for work, bolting out the door with just enough time to catch the bus if he ran to the corner. They should set the alarm earlier if they were going to continue to put that morning wood to such good use.

This morning it had been a slow lazy blowjob from Mitchell, who didn’t leave himself enough time for reciprocation. Anders had smiled all the way to get the mail and then back to the table. His tall, lanky boyfriend was going to come in the door ready for action. He’d have to make it a point to call John at least once and say something lascivious, something so lecherous that it would keep the vampire on low boil all day. He poured himself a cup of coffee, musing over exactly what he was going to say.

There was a sealed rectangular manila envelope in the mail that bore no return address or stamp. The only thing written on it was “John Mitchell” in delicate cursive handwriting. Ander’s brows furrowed as he looked at it, his frown deepening as the scent of perfume wafted upward.

Anders looked at it and turned it over and over in his hands. Finally the god of Nothing Is Fuckin’ Sacred broke the seal on the envelope and pulled out the picture.

She was beautiful, stunning in fact. Long blonde hair, highlighted and casually draped over her perfect shoulders as she languidly lifted her arms to toy with her hair. Her body was barely covered by a white swimsuit or lingerie, he couldn’t tell which, not that it mattered. What mattered was that it was here at all in his hands, addressed to his…boyfriend.

Or was Mitchell even his boyfriend?

Boyfriends didn’t have women sending them nearly nude photos of themselves.

He set the envelope down and went into the bathroom, closing the door firmly. Sitting on the closed stool he looked down at his bare feet. The room felt like it was spinning. He felt like he was spinning. He knew if he stood up and opened the door it would be a scene out of a cartoon where the apartment would be all weird colors and crazy angles.

Taking a deep breath, he fought to calm his nerves. He had no business getting this upset. It wasn’t like he and Mitchell had ever promised each other forever after. It had been months before he would even let John refer to him by the term ‘boyfriend.’ He’d been walking away from bed partners all his life and this one should be no different.

Should be…

So why did it feel like his fucking heart was breaking in two?

Neither of them was gay. This thing between them was a fling, a dalliance, an experiment, nothing more. It wasn’t permanent. It couldn’t be permanent. It had always been just a matter of time until one or both of them moved on with their lives.

So why did it feel like his fucking heart was breaking in two?

Finally he managed to stand up. Anders looked in the mirror at the minor god, the PR man with the gilded tongue, the womanizer, the philanderer, the man who could never keep his dick in one spot longer than it took to find another interesting hole to stick it in. He was all of those things and more. He never understood what Mitchell saw in him, or why he stayed for so many months.

He splashed water on his face and shaved, resisting the urge to cut his own throat. Today was going to just plain suck.

When he left for the office he picked up the envelope and slid it into his briefcase.

Dawn met him at the door. He was never Mr. Sunshine first thing in the morning, but he didn’t usually greet her with a rude, “Cancel all my appointments and hold my calls,” and then blow past her into his office, slamming the door behind him.

And there he stayed.

Just Anders Johnson and the envelope.

And the half full bottle of vodka.

After a while it was back to being just Anders and the envelope, the empty vodka bottle having sought asylum in the waste bin.

Dawn stuck her nose in just once. “It’s time to go home, Anders.”

He didn’t even turn his chair around. “Fuck off back to my brother and leave me the hell alone.”

Dawn stuck her tongue out at him. “Have a pleasant night, Anders. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She closed the door just before his shoe hit it.

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

John Mitchell wasn’t having the best day himself. There had been a pileup on the expressway and the two children had been flown to Starship Children’s Hospital. It had been the unluck of draw that Mitchell had been assigned to trauma and that he had to clean the worst of the two rooms.

He heaved a sigh and then snorted to blow the scent of blood out of his nose. In his other job traumas sometimes made him hungry, the way you get when you smell someone’s popcorn or pizza. But Mitchell hated the scent of children’s blood. It was one of the few perks to having to clean up after a desperately injured child. The blood smelled innocent, if that was even a way to describe it. The scent was lighter and not as metallic as an adult. It affected him worse because having spatters of it on the floor and smeared over disposable packaging and medical equipment was just wrong. The fact that it always made him want to puke into the nearest bucket didn’t help either.

At least these children had lived and in a few months the trauma room would just be a story to tell. Not all were so fortunate. Those were the ones that drove Mitchell to the quiet of the rooftop where he could smoke and shed a few tears in private.

He gowned, gloved, picked up his cleaning materials, and went into the room. A few sprays later he could no longer smell the blood as strongly and his stomach settled down. As he mopped he heard the commotion in the hall and knew that when he was done here there would be another room to clean up.

Today was going to suck.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Mitchell got off the bus and walked home. He took a moment before going in to compose himself. The day had been a nightmare and he had clocked out feeling lucky he hadn’t been fired. He didn’t want to bring that feeling home with him.

Heaving a sigh, he opened the door and found the apartment empty. No one responded to his call. Anders wasn’t in the loo and there was no note. Puzzled, Mitchell checked his phone, but there were no messages that he’d missed.

Anders must be working late. Apparently he’d had a hard day as well. Mitchell decided to walk to the office and see if he’d like to go out for dinner, or maybe pick up some take away from the Japanese place on the corner. He passed the little florist shop and saw a container with red roses set out front. They were Anders favorite flower. Mitchell picked out one that was just starting to open and took it inside. A small spray of baby’s breath made it look classy and was well within his tight budget. Anticipating Ander’s reaction to the gift (always saying he didn’t like flowers and then carefully putting it a vase on his desk), he smiled as he approached the office.

Dawn was already gone and Ander’s door was shut.

“Anders?”

No response.

The door had been unlocked, so he had to be in there. Maybe he was on the phone. He locked the door behind him and quietly crossed the outer office.

Mitchell knocked on the door softly, but there was no response.

Carefully he opened it and peeked in. The back of Anders’ chair was to the door and both hands were on the arms, so no phone call.

“Anders?”

No response either.

Mitchell slipped into the room, shutting the door behind him and walked over to Ander’s desk. He stood in the blond man’s line of vision, but there was no acknowledgement of his presence. A tiny shiver of fear crept down his spine as he noticed the empty vodka bottle in the trash.

“Anders, what’s wrong?”

Anders didn’t move.

“Did something happen to Dawn or one of your brothers?” Mitchell’s voice rose a little as the little mouse of fear bit harder.

He laid the rose on the desk and waited.

With glacial slowness Anders turned the chair to look at him. “Everyone is fine,” he said quietly in a voice that dripped ice. He ignored the flower.

“Something’s wrong.” Mitchell was confused. “Why are you looking at me like that? Why are you pissed off at me? Jaysus, it’s already been a shitty day, I just don’t need this from you.”

Anders snorted. “Maybe because you get things like this in the mail.”

He slid the envelope toward Mitchell, who backed up a step.

“What’s in it?”

“Don’t you know?” Anders’ voice was rivaling Ty for frostiness.

“If I knew I wouldn’t bloody well ask, now would I?” Mitchell shot back. He was upset both by Anders’ attitude and because he had no idea what was going on.

“Open it.”

Mitchell refused. “Looks like you already did, so why don’t you stop acting the maggot and just tell me what the fuck it is that I apparently did wrong?”

Anders pulled the envelope toward him and reached in, pulling out a photograph. He held it up so that Mitchell could see it. “Still don’t know what’s going on?”

John’s brows drew down in a frown, his expression mixing surprise with anger. “Where the fuck did you get that?”

“It was in our mailbox this morning,” Anders replied sweetly. “In an envelope with pretty handwriting that smells of perfume.”

“I have no idea how it got there.” Mitchell was feeling defensive even though he’d done nothing wrong and was as confused as he had been when the envelope was still closed.

“I do. Apparently the whore you’re shagging on the side decided you needed a photo to remind you of what you really want.” Anders’ voice was rich with sarcasm, his words biting deeply.

“I’m not shagging anyone on the side, let alone that bitch,” Mitchell retorted. “She damn near got me fired today.”

Anders was still holding the photo up, his expression cold. The vampire rubbed his face in his hands for a moment and then straightened up. “Her name’s Alyssa and she’s crazy. I didn’t tell you about her because she’s just a volunteer I work with. She’s been interested in me, but I told her I was seeing someone.”

Anders was skeptical. “You’d pass this up?”

One eyebrow rose slowly. “Never stick your dick in crazy, Anders. Even you know that.”

“Do I? When crazy looks like this?” It was his turn to arch an eyebrow.

Mitchell groaned. “I should have told you, but I thought I made it plain to her that I wasn’t interested. I really did. I told her I appreciated the compliment, but that I’m not available. I didn’t know she was this crazy, honest.”

The look on Mitchell’s face made Anders’ hurt back down a notch. “You said she almost got you fired?”

“Yeah, she keeps coming around when I’m trying to clean. It was a bad day and we had a couple of really hurt kiddies from an accident. I was assigned trauma today and the place looked like the accident had happened there. I could hear the second child crying while I was cleaning up Room 4 and I wasn’t in the best mood.

“I backed up into her when I was doing the first mopping and slopped bloody water all over my foot. I yelled at her to get out of the way and she got all upset and ran off. I don’t even know what I said to her, but it probably wasn’t pretty.”

Mitchell looked at the picture that Anders was still toying with. “Please tear that up. I never want to see that bitch again as long as I live.”

Anders complied, taking perverse joy in shredding the photo of the blond and watching the pieces flutter into the bin at his feet. “You were saying?”

Mitchell paced nearly to the door before returning to stand in front of the blond god. His fists clenched and then unclenched as he sought to release some of the pent up tension in his body.

“She went to my supervisor and filed a sexual harassment complaint. I got called into the office and told to go home until it was settled. I refused and started to tell my side of it when Alyssa came into the room. She got told to leave, but wouldn’t go. Even Mrs. Walters standing up and ordering her out of the room didn’t work.

“She came over to me and Christ I nearly fell over the desk backing away.

She said, ‘Your girlfriend isn’t more beautiful than I am,’ and ran her hands down her body.

“I’d so had it with everyone that I just fuckin’ told the truth. I said ‘my _boyfriend_ is tons more beautiful than you are.’” He grimaced. “And that’s when she slapped me.”

He looked at Anders, who had a look of complete astonishment on his face. “She did what?!”

“Slapped me right in front of Mrs. Walters. She’s got quite an arm on her too.” He rubbed the left side of his face. “It’s still sore. Anyway, crazy Alyssa is no longer volunteering for us and hopefully not for any other hospital, and the sexual harassment complaint is history.”

He tried to smile, not very successfully. “Like I said, it’s been a shitty day.”

Anders picked the rose up and held it for a moment. “It’s been a shitty day, but you still took time to get me a rose.” Mitchell nodded and Anders felt tears prickling at his eyes.

He stood up and came over to stand in front of Mitchell where he could see there was some discoloration at the bottom corner of his eye socket. He slid his arms around the vampire’s neck and laid a gentle kiss on the bruise.

Another kiss and then a whispered question. “Am I really tons more beautiful than she is?”

Mitchell reached you and cupped his face, tracing Anders’s lips with his thumb. “Yes, you are. Your lips are perfect.” He kissed them, ending it with a flick of his tongue. “You have the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen and those dimples kill me every time. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“And then you come to me and I make it worse,” Anders said softly. “I’m sorry I’m a jealous arsehole.”

Mitchell turned his head and claimed Anders’ lips in a long slow kiss. When it broke he smiled and this time it reached his eyes. “So am I. I hate it when you have those business lunches with glamorous women. I mean, how can I compete? I know you still want them and probably always will.”

“But I don’t.” Anders shook his head and looked up at Mitchell, his eyes that impossible sky blue that signaled that he was calm and happy. “I don’t want them. Not any more.

“I used to think I did until one of them slid her hotel key across the table to me. I admit that I looked at it and thought about spending an hour exploring her.” He bit his lip and couldn’t meet John’s eyes. “But then I thought about what I could lose and it wasn’t worth it.”

He looked up. “It’s not that I don’t want them – it’s that I want you more. I love what I have with you. I love everything about it. I don’t want to ever lose that.”

Mitchell pulled him close. “I don’t want to lose it, either. Promise me that you’ll be mine and only mine.”

Anders stood tiptoe and traced Mitchell’s lower lip with the tip of his tongue. “If you’ll be mine.”

“Until the 12th of Never.”

“Is that a long time?”

Mitchell smiled. “A very, very long time.”

They were kissing then, long and hard, tongues sliding over one another, teeth scraping and hands roving to press and pull and stroke. When it broke they were both breathless and hard.

“I want you so much.” Mitchell’s voice was low and gruff with desire.

Anders sucked a bruise onto the vampire’s beautiful neck and then answered. “Condoms and lube, bottom drawer left.”

“On the couch?” Mitchell asked retrieving the items.

“Yeah, it’d be hard to explain carpet burns on my arse. Besides it’s the one piece of furniture we haven’t christened.”

Mitchell’s eyes twinkled. “Haven’t nailed you on your desk yet.”

Anders paused as he was stepping out of his slacks. A smile tickled the corner of his mouth, making his dimples even deeper. “We’ll do that second if a bloke as old as you is up for it.”

Mitchell pushed him back on the couch, his hands and lips already skimming over the god’s body.

“I think I can pretty much guarantee that I will be.”

 

 

 


End file.
